Attempted Haircut
by Bookaholics
Summary: Sam suddenly wants to cut his hair. Dean wants to know why. Who knew one attempted haircut could change so much? Wincest Sam/Dean
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:

The toychest and the toys it contains all belong to Eric Kripke, I'm just borrowing them for my own amusement. (Because Kripke doesn't play with them the way we all wish he would.)

**Chapter One**

Sam didn't hear the front door open; he didn't even hear it close. He didn't hear the greeting his brother always shouted as he shrugged out of his well-worn leather jacket and kicked off his boots after a long day at work. He definately didn't hear the oldest Winchester's loud, heavy footsteps as he approached their shared bathroom- where Sam was currently glaring at his own reflection.

There was a terrible war being waged inside of his skull as he struggled to find enough courage to do what had to be done. He knew he was about to make a big change in his life. He had been staring at his own handsome features for a little over three hours as two different sides of him fought a fierce battle.

Just as he raised the the open scissor blades to his shaggy mop of hair, he happened to glance to his right. What he saw there was so unexpected that it caused him to jump and close the sharp metal blades over a single brown curl. He said a silent "Thank you" to whoever might be listening when he realized that he'd missed his ear by less than an inch. He watched that one brown curl as it made its all too slow descent into the sink in front of him.

He laid the the scissors down on the counter and slowly turned to face his brother. His brain was already hard at work searching for the explanation Dean was sure to ask for. After finally being acknowledged Dean felt the need to express his confusion. " The hell are you doin' Sammy?" Dean looked so defensive in that moment; his hard body leaning on the wooden doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face scary enough to rival what Dean loved to refer to as Sam's "bitchface".

Sam narrowed his eyes at his older brother defiantly. The combination of Dean's closed off stance and pissed off expression was kind of intimidating, but there was no way Sam was going to let Dean know that. "What's it look like?" He met Dean's suspicious gaze without backing down, he wasn't going to give in this time. He knew what he needed to do- and he planned on getting it done. "And it's Sam."

He turned back to the mirror and reached for the scissors again. Just as he was about to pick them up for the second time that day Dean's low, rough voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "Why are you cutting your hair?" Anyone else would have been completely fooled by the curiosity in his voice. But Sam's well trained ears picked up on the dangerous undercurrent of suspicion, lying just below the surface, without difficulty.

Sam bit his lip and glared at his feet as memories from that afternoon all came rushing to the front of his mind. The mocking faces of the people he'd once thought of as friends; the misplaced anger in Luke's eyes as he shoved Sam forcefully into the wall of lockers behind him; and the humiliation he'd felt when Luke had hissed "Get a haircut, faggot." then walked away laughing, taking his ever-present group of followers with him. He could see it all so clearly, and it hurt just as bad the second time around as it had the first.

He blushed with shame and embarassment as he desperately searched his brain for an excuse to give Dean. He hated lying to his brother,but he couldn't bear the thought of letting Dean know just how weak he really was. If he had his way, Dean would _never_ uncover the truth. "'Cause I want to." he said with shrug. But one glance at Dean's reflection told him that Dean wasn't buying it and wouldn't give up that easily.

"Since when?" He had given up all attempts to hide the suspicion in his voice.

Suddenly a stroke of genius hit Sam like a ton of bricks and he knew it was nothing short of divine intervention. "Since Jessica told me she thought I'd look cute with short hair." That was a lie, Jessica had _loved_ his hair. But that had been a long time ago, before Luke had managed to convince her to join forces with him on the dark side.

Dean's expression changed then. A wide grin that Sam had always admired spread across the face that Sam knew as well as his own. He looked downright smug. "Jessica?" He sounded just as smug as he looked. Sam rolled his eyes, and fought his own grin.

"Yes, Dean. Now will you go away? You're makin' me nervous." And he was. Sam was working hard to keep from spilling his guts and telling Dean exactly what had gone down a few short hours ago. But he had been humiliated enough for one day.

Dean made a face, like he had to think really hard about it. He nodded then and closed the short between them and reached for the scissors before Sam had a chance to stop him. "Sure, now I will."

Dean started to walk away. He turned around in the doorway when Sam said, "But De... my scissors?"

"You don't need 'em anyway, Sammy. You'd look stupid with short hair." He turned again, on his way out of the house and to the local diner to buy dinner. He caught a glimpse of Sam stroking his precious hair and frowning at the mirror before he left the bathroom.

His hand was on the cold metal of the door knob when he heard Sam call out "It's Sam!"

"Sure it is!" he yelled back with a grin before closing the front door behind him.

Dean could clearly picture Sam grinning at his reflection, thinking he had dodged a bullet. But what Sam didn't know was that Dean had seen the brief flash of worry in his eyes when Dean had asked him why.

As Dean climbed into his beloved Impala and started her engine he promised himself that he would find out what had his baby brother so worried and take care of it. That was his job after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own anything... But I'll keep dreaming anyway.

**Chapter Two**

"Rough day?" Dean looked up into the kind eyes of a pretty, blonde waitress about his brother's age. He sighed before taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee she had just set in front of him. She stood there patiently and waited for his reply, although she could already see the answer in his worried expression and exhausted body language.

He sat the cup back down and nodded. "You could say that."

"Have I seen you before? You look so familiar." It had been bothering her since he had walked through the door. It was driving her insane.

"I work at Bobby's garage down the street." It was the only place to go in their small town when you had car trouble. It would make sense for her to have seen him there.

"What's your name?" She gave him a bright smile, hoping to make him feel a little better.

"Dean."

"Winchester?" As the realiztion hit her, she recoiled like she'd been hit. It sure felt like it. As she struggled to keep her breathing steady, she saw Sam carrying her books for her as he walked her to class. He was repeatedly jerking his head to the side in a pointless attempt to keep his hair out of his eyes; a huge grin on his fsce as he rambled on and on about the older brother he unknowingly wave after wave of a crushing guilt washed over her, threatening to drag her under.

Dean raised an eyebrow at her reaction, but decided not to say anything. "The one and only." He replied, his usual cocky grin sliding into place.

She sucked her bottom lip between teeth and stared at her hands on the counter. The next question fell from her lips before she could think to stop it. "How's your brother?"

The obvious worry in her voice set Dean's teeth on edge. "He's fine."

The relief was easy to spot as her shoulders relaxed and the tight line of her lips spread into an easy going smile. Dean knew then that he had to ask. "Why wouldn't he be..." Dean glanced at her name tag "Jessica?"

One look into his honest, worried eyes- so much like the ones she had admired so many times before- and Jessica had to tell him the truth. "Luke," she looked back to her hands again, too ashamed of her own cowardly behavior to look Dean in the eye any longer. "he's been picking on Sam all year- but it all got out of hand ,and Sam looked so hurt, and I couldn't help him. He looked like a lost puppy."

"What?" Dean was wondering how it was possible for one person to talk that much and make absolutely no sense at all.

"My boyfriend, Luke." She still wasn't looking at Dean. "He's been torturing Sam since he got here. But, today was just awful."

She din't have to be looking at Dean to catch the not-so-subtle anger when he growled "What happened?"

"Sam didn't do anything to Luke to deserve what he got. He never does. He was just getting ready to leave when Luke decided that he needed a good laugh. He walked over and pushed Sam's books out of his hands, like some kind of overgrown eight year old." She looked so guilty and Dean could see her hands shaking as she wiped down the already clean counter top. "When Sam opened his mouth, Luke shoved him into the lockers. It had to hurt. Then he told him to get a haircut and called him a faggot." Her voice cracked on that last word and her eyes were swimming in unshed tears when she finally lifted her head to look at Dean.

"I wanted so badly to stop him. I really did... but, you just don't say no to Luke Martin." That last sentence brought Dean's eyebrows up by about a foot. He was going to kick this kid's ass anyway for being stupid enough to mess with his baby brother, but if she meant what he thought she meant this Luke guy would be lucky to see the sun rise one more time.

"Why not?" He tried to sound like someone hadn't just knocked the wind out of him, but it wasn't easy. He felt like he'd been kicked in the ribs about a million times.

She surprised him by letting out a laugh. It was a soft, short, and not at all humorous sound. She made no attempt at eye contact when she answered, "Let's just say that I'm tired of covering up black eyes."

Dean saw red. He bit the inside of his jaw and started counting backward from one hundred. Somewhere between sixty and forty, he calmed down enough to hiss, "Where does he live?"

It didn't take Dean long to convince a sobbing Jessica to give away her boyfriend's address. He spent a little while comforting her and gave her his phone number in case she ever needed anything.

His tires squealed as he tore out of the otherwise empty parking lot and sped off in the direction of revenge. That bastard was about to get what he'd had coming to him for a long time.

**A/N:** Sorry it took so long... I haven't exactly had access to a computer for a while. But I'm back. :) And just so you know, I 3 reviews as much as Dean 3s pie! this story will only survive if I get my "pie". So if you want a happy ending, review... or else. *insert evil laugh here*

** -Kari (^3^) **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long guys. Thanks to everyone who took the time to leave a review last time. :) I'll try not to leave you all waiting again this time. **

** Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be wasting my time here. :P**

Sam was fast asleep by the time Dean made his way back to their shared bedroom a few hours later. He was in the wrong bed, but at least he was sleeping peacefully. It had been a while since Sam had gotten a good night's sleep. Dean smiled happily when he noted that his baby brother's hair was still hanging in his eyes. He started to reach out and brush it away, but pulled his hand back when he spotted the quickly drying blood on his knuckles.

He shrugged out of his jacket and kicked his jeans off, reaching for an old pair of sweats that he'd grown to love. He couldn't help glancing over at Sam every few seconds. Sam was smiling and mumbling in a way that was almost enough to make Dean forget where he'd just been. It was almost enough to make the sounds of Luke's begging stop ringing in his ears. Almost.

Dean ran a hand along the dark bathroom wall, searching for the switch. He found it soon enough and flipped it up, bathing the small bathroom in a harsh light. But even the sting of the far too bright lights couldn't force him to stop grinning as he remembered the look on Luke's face as he spit out more of his own blood and swore he'd never even _think_ about touching Sam or Jessica again. He shot a cocky smirk at his own bloody reflection as he shoved his hands under the hot water pouring from the faucet.

Sam rubbed his uncooperative eyes with his fists and blinked rapidly in an attempt to make them adjust to the blinding light that was suddenly spilling into the bedroom through the open door. He could hear water running in the bathroom. All concerns about temperature and comfort were forgotten when he realized that Dean must have come threw Dean's blanket off and jumped out of bed, his head spinning at the unexpected change in altitude. He paused for a moment and gave his head the time it needed to adjust, then he was off- racing into the bathroom.

He froze in his the doorway when he noticed the the dried blood on his brother's face and the water turning pink as it ran down the drain.

"Dean?" Dean felt a little pang of guilt when he heard the worry in Sam's voice. "Are you okay?"

Dean just smiled and shook his head. He loved the way he was feeling. It was the kind of satisfaction he could only get from doing something for his little brother. He loved seeing Sammy smile- and he'd do just about anything to see it happen. Whether it was giving him the last cookie or beating the crap out of some jerk who desperately deserved it. " 'm fine Sammy. 's not my blood." He splashed cold water on his face and scrubbed the dried blood away. As he reached for a towel he felt a disturbance in the force, which could only mean one thing- Sam was pulling one of his bitch faces.

"Then whose blood is it Dean?"

His face dried and his hands blood-free, Dean turned to grin at his scowling brother. "Luke Martin's."

Sam's eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped. The expression would have been cute if Dean hadn't just seen Sam's eye twitch. A storm was coming. Dean knew the warning signs well, and that little eye twitch was one of them. "And why are you covered in Luke Martin's blood?"

_Uh-oh, that's not a good tone. _

Dean bit his lip. "Because he had it coming." He looked at his hands, the floor, the shower curtain... everything but Sam. "And before you ask, he was still breathing when I left. He was curled up in a puddle of his own blood, sobbing like a baby, but he was breathing."

Sam sighed and shook his head. "Who told you?"

"Does that really matter?"

Sam could see that he was getting nowhere. If Dean didn't want to tell him everything, he wouldn't. Fighting about it was pointless, and Sam didn't see the point in complaining about it- so he decided to go back to bed. He was tired anyway. "Whatever, Dean. I'm going back to bed."

He made it as far as the bedroom door before Dean grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. Dean's face was only inches from his own, and Sam could feel the heat radiating from his body. Sam suddenly felt naked, standing there in his boxers with Dean standing close enough that Sam could feel his brother's breath brush across his face every time Dean exhaled.

"I thought you'd be happy." Dean's voice was low and rough in his ear. Sam huffed out a breath and looked away. "He won't bother you again." At that, Sam shook his head and glared at his feet.

They stood there for a few minutes in a less than comfortable silence. But Dean, being the highly impatient person that he is, didn't handle the silence very well. "Would you please just say something?"

Dean's hand was still latched onto Sam's bicep, and Sam idly wondered if he even noticed. "Everyone thinks I'm weak." It came out as no more than a whisper, but Sam was sure that he heard.

Dean's hand fell away from his brother's arm, and they both felt a little ache from the loss of contact. "What?"

Sam didn't want to spill his guts, he really didn't. But he could feel Dean's eyes on his face and he couldn't hold back any longer. He glared up at Dean defiantly. "You, Dad, Jessica... Nobody let's me stand up for myself. I'm not as weak as I look, but nobody'll give me a chance to prove it. I'm not a little kid anymore, De."

Dean's face softened, the worry and confusion clearing up. He smiled down at his brother, "I know you aren't, Sammy... I only fight for you cause I love you. Not cause I think you can't."

Sam's face lit up. "Really?"

Dean nodded. He leaned in and placed a small kiss to Sam's nose. As soon as he realized what he'd done, his eyes went wide and a blush spread across his shocked face. All those years he'd spent trying to hide his feelings for Sam had just flown out the window, and he knew it. _Oh God, what if he hates me? What if he never speaks to me again?_

Sam just grinned and pulled the eldest Winchester into a kiss.

Dean pulled away and breathed a sigh of relief. "So does this mean I'm forgiven?"

Sam just rolled his eyes and dragged Dean into another kiss.

Before long, they were both so wrapped up in the kiss that a bomb could've gone off next door and neither of them would have noticed. So, of course, they didn't hear the front door opening, or the quickly approaching footsteps until they were much too close.

"What the hell?" John's voice rang out and ripped the boys out of each other's arms.

** -I know it isn't great, but I was in a hurry as soon as I realized how long it'd been since I updated. Reviews make me smile... and keep my story alive. :)**

** -Kari**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Well here it is! Took me long enough, huh? I found my blue notebook, sat down with my computer, and worked my butt off to get it done. I hope you like it!

Chapter Four

The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife. The air that hung between the three Winchesters was thick with unasked questions and unspoken was like sitting in a barrel of gun powder, just waiting for a spark to ignite. All that was missing was a catalyst, something to cause the spark that would ultimately lead to their destruction. A few harsh words, a couple of well- but low- aimed insults, and a violent outburst or two was all it would take to blow them all away.

One of them was pacing around the room- back and forth, back and forth. Another was biting his lip and glaring at his feet as though they were the source of all of the world's problems. But, of course, the last Winchester to be spoken of was just sitting there grinning at his little brother, seemingly completely oblivious to the dangerous atmosphere that surrounded him. But Dean knew perfectly well what was happening. He wasn't as stupid as he looked. He just didn't care at the time. All he could bring himself to care about in that moment was how adorable Sammy looked when he was freaking out about something.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from his baby brother's face. He was fascinated by the slight pucker of Sam's lips. Entranced by the little wrinkle between his eyebrows that continued to grow deeper as they drew closer and closer together. Awed by the barely-there tilt of his head as he looked up to watch their father wear holes in the carpet shaped like his feet with narrowed eyes. He had to stop and wonder why he'd never noticed any of it before. How could he have missed it?

Dean could still feel Sam's soft lips pressed against his own. He could still taste his brother on his tongue. He could still hear the little breathy sigh that Sam had let slip when Dean had run his tongue over his smooth lower lip, asking for entrance. He could still feel the warmth radiating from Sam's ever changing body. And that was when Dean's thoughts, fueled by the mere memory of that too soon interrpted kiss, took a turn for the dirty side; and even if Dean had _wanted _to think less filthy thoughts, chances are that he would have failed... miserably. So, he didn't attempt to fight them off, he embraced them with open arms and a smile on his face.

John finally stopped for a moment and looked at his boys. _His boys_. The boy's he'd raised like warriors. The boy's he'd come to think of as his own little army. The boy's he'd thought he'd known like the back of his own hand. The boys he'd loved. '_How could they keep this from me?_' he thought. He was pissed that they hadn't at least had the guts to come to him and let him know. But at the same time, he wanted to know how in God's name he had missed it. And how long had it been going on? Weeks? Months? Were they even capable of keeping this big of a secret from him for that long? How many signs had he missed or ignored?

He looked to his oldest, and inwardly rolled his eyes at what he saw. Dean was staring at Sam. But staring wasn't really the right word, it was more like... leering. His lower lip was stuck between his teeth, the corners of his mouth turned up in a little smile that would make any teenage girl with half a brain swoon. His eyes were intense as they roamed the length of the quickly filling out body that sat not even two feet away. Every thought, from the slightly inappropriate to the down right dirty, was practically written on his face.

So he turned to Sam, his youngest. The brains of the operation. So fucused and driven in everything that he did. Sam was looking past John, lost in his own thoughts as usual. Although John was sure that his thoughts were centered on a far different subject from his brother's. He had to fight a laugh as that crossed his mind. He knew for a fact that his son's were thinking _very_ different thoughts. If Sam had any idea what sick, twisted things were swimming around in Dean's head right then, his face would forever be tinted a bright shade of pink. John was sure of that. At least, he had been before. Now, he didn't know what to think. He felt like he was standing in front of strangers.

He knew that he had to say something. He needed to let them know how he really felt about their... whatever the Hell it was they had going on. But he had absolutely no idea where to start.

A/N: I would like to thank all of you that took the time to leave me a review. The positive feedback I received for this story was not only surprising, but also very exciting. It made me feel better about myself as a writer, and helped encourage me to do my best and push myself out of my comfort zone. And now that the Gods of fanfiction have smiled kindly upon me and returned unto me my beautiful blue notebook, updates will be longer and not so far between. You guys are AMAZING! Thanks so much for making me feel loved. :D

-Kari

.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: HERE IT IS! Took me long enough, huh? :)

Disclaimer: I promise, I don't own them... and they aren't currently tied up in my closet. *glances around suspiciously*

Chapter Five

Dean stood on the front porch and watched the tail lights of his beloved Impala fade into the distance with a smile on his face. A small part of him still couldn't believe what had just occurred in their living room not even five minutes ago. His dad didn't care. He. Didn't. Care. A shiver, that had nothing to do with the ice-cold wind that was whipping around him, ran up his spine as he remembered John's words. "I've taken too much from you boys already. I can't say that I really want this for the two of you, but I won't do anything to stop you."

He stood there for a long time, leaning against the cool metail railing of the porch, just thinking things over. He had Sam. After all of those years of biting his tongue and holding back, his Sammy was finally his to keep. He would be out on the front lawn doing some kind of ridiculous happy dance... You know, if he wasn't Dean Winchester. He was to cool to dance around like an idiot; but on the inside, he could squeal like a teenage girl at a Twilight convention all he wanted without sacrificing his manly ego. And he was doing exacly that.

Dean had been shocked when John hadn't given them the lecture of a lifetime. The look on Sam's face when John walked out of the room after only a few short sentences had been priceless. Mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He let out a strangled goodbye to John, but kept his butt planted firmly on the stained cushions of their broken down couch. Dean, of course, had followed his father out onto the porch to wave goodbye, following an unwritten tradition that seemed as old as time to the eldest of the Winchester brothers.

John was leaving on another hunt. He had only stopped by to let his boys know that he was okay, and that he would be gone for another week or so. Which meant that Dean had a whole week of just him and Sammy ahead of him. Just the thought of it had him wearing a grin wide enough to give the Cheshire Cat a run for his money as he turned on his heel and walked back into the warmth of their little two bedroom house.

The living room was empty, couch abandoned. "Sammy?" No answer, the whole house seemed far too quiet. He could have sworn that his footsteps were actually echoing. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. The house was _never_ this quiet, especially with Sam around. Because Sam was possibly the noisiest human being to ever walk the face of the Earth, the kid couldn't even shut a frickin' cabinet door without making enough noise to wake the dead.

Dean flattened himself against the wall, back pressing into the scratchy, textured wallpaper as he quietly drew his knife out of the waistband of his sweat pants and began making his way down the hall. Every nerve ending in his body was screaming at him, '_Stop! Danger!_' The thin hairs on his arms were standing on end as his hunter's instincts kicked in.

He wanted to call out to Sam again. He needed to hear his baby brother's voice, and he needed to hear it right then. Every second without the sound of Sammy's voice assaulting his ears made him want to scream. His mind supplied thousands of terrifying scenarios of what he would find when he reached the bedroom. His heart ached with the desperation he felt, and he could hear its incessant _th-thump th-thump_ pounding in his ears. It grew louder and louder as he approached the wide open door.

He turned the corner quickly, keeping his back to the door. A couple of split-second glances around the dark room stole the breath from his chest and made his knees go weak. The knife slipped from his cold hand and fell to the carpeted floor with a muted thump. He grabbed the rough wood of the door frame for the support that his body refused to give him.

The only window, that was _always_ kept shut and locked at night, was open all the way. The loud snapping of the tattered curtains was the only noise left to fill the soul crushing silence. The pale moonlight streaming in from said window illuminated the sloppy, blood red words on the wall above Dean's bed. His loose grip on the door frame gave way and he fell to his knees when he was finally able to make out what they said '**PAY BACK'S A BITCH**'.

A/N: Betcha didn't see that one coming... To tell you the truth, neither did I. O.O Guess we'll all just have to stick around and find out what happens next. Leave me a review if you want the boy back... alive. Reviews are the best form of ransom. :D

-Kari


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: There are no words to describe how sorry I am for abandoning my loyal readers for such a long time. I was going through a difficult time in my life and the will to write left me. My muse packed her bags and walked away, slamming the door behind her. After weeks of begging and pleading, she has agreed to return to me and the words are beginning to flow freely again. I hope my readers can find it in their hearts to forgive this humble author for her lack of updates.

That being said, let's get this show back on the road!

Disclaimer: I really, really despise the fact that I don't own them.

Chapter Six

Sam Winchester opened his eyes, finding himself in an environment that was totally unfamiliar to him. Or maybe he had seen it before- he'd have to wait and see once the room stopped spinning. His head was throbbing, and everything hurt. His mouth was dry and tasted of blood, he was assuming that it was his own for now. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to stop the spinning and ease some of the pain. It didn't work, so he settled for closing them instead.

Slamming his eyelids closed and allowing his head to fall forward again had little effect on his general poor state of being, but it did ease the pain that had been caused by the bright fluorescent bulbs buzzing loudly above him. With the sting that had been brought on by those lights slowly fading away, Sam was finally able to force his thoughts back into some sort of order. Granted, they were still thoroughly confusing and broken like a web page that wouldn't load properly, but at least they were there and struggling to come together again.

Suddenly, the relative silence that surrounded him was interuppted by loud, seemingly mocking footsteps coming up from behind him. Sam stiffened slightly, but then thought better of it and went limp in order to keep his new found state of consciousness a secret from his captor.

"I know you're awake Sam." The familiar voice was as cold and hard as the icy concrete beneath Sam's bare feet. "So open your eyes and look at me." The voice was too close, the feeling of his captor's hot breath on his ear made him shiver. Sam didn't want to face the blinding light again, but he didn't see any point in pissing Luke off further while he was tied up and unable to fight back, so he did as he was told.

As he finally adjusted to the lights, and the spinning came to a halt, he raised his eyes to the face of the boy who had blindsided him only a few hours before, and stolen him away from his big brother/lover. He had to fight the urge to grin when he realized just how much the elder Winchester loved him. He could see it in the dark bruise just below Luke's right eye, the swelling around his newly crooked nose, and the dried blood around the jagged split on his lower lip.

Although violence wasn't really Sam's "thing", a part of him wished that he could've been there to see his brother take on the overly confident bully who had made his life at school a living Hell. Dean, like Sam, was well trained in hand-to-hand combat and could easily take down any (human) person who happened to step out of line without breaking a sweat. Luke hadn't stood a chance on Dean had made up his mind to put him back in his in place.

There was no doubt in Sam's mind that that Dean would eventually come to his rescue- and when he did, Luke would be as good as dead. All he had to do now was play along and stay alive until his knight in shining armor showed up.

Dean found himself pacing back and forth across the small bedroom, shaking like a leaf, fists clenching and unclenching as he struggled to keep it all inside. _'Oh Hell no.'_ The little voice in his head ranted. _'Go kill that bastard! He actually had the __**nerve**__ to come after our Sammy? __**Our **__Sammy? KILL HIM!' _Every few seconds, his gaze fell to the words that were scrawled haphazardly on the wall above the empty bed, the bed that _should_ have been occupied by two bodies. With every quick glance, the furious monster in the pit of his stomach howled with rage.

What was he doing here? Sammy was in danger. An angry growl rose from somewhere deep inside him, the thought of Luke's smug face spurring him on as he raced for the front door.

A/N: I know it's short, but I wanted to update as soon as possible. I hope it was at least halfway decent. If you want more, leave me a review and let me know, and I promose to update more often. I still love you guys.

-Kari


End file.
